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Ominis had told himself it was just going to be a one-time thing. He had told himself it was just to explore and see how it felt. He never thought it would feel so nice to have something on his lips like this.
He had gone into his younger sister's room on a whim. Her birthday was a few weeks ago, and he knew she had gotten one of those make-up cases from her friend and a ton of different products to fill it. She wouldn't stop going on and on about all the compliments she got when she would put makeup on.
Everyone would call her pretty.
Ominis wanted to be called pretty. He just wasn't sure why. Boys weren't pretty. Girls were pretty. He wasn’t supposed to want that. Not as a boy. Not as a Gaunt.
If his parents ever found out he felt that way, he didn’t even want to imagine their reactions. He’d heard their comments before, the sharp, cruel remarks they’d make about people they didn’t think fit the mold of “proper” men and women.
They’d called it shameful. A stain on the family name.
But still, as he stood in his sister’s room with his fingers brushing over the edge of her makeup case, he couldn’t help but wonder what it might feel like to be called pretty.
Just once.
He had found the plastic case tucked neatly under her desk while she was at a friend's house, and had opened it slowly. He felt each different compartment thoroughly for the items he was searching for. He felt soft-bristled brushes and pots of various products. It wasn’t until he reached the bottom compartment that he felt them: little tubes with a twist base. He picked one up, turning it over in his palm. Popping off the cap, he brought it to his nose to smell.
Cherries. He liked cherries.
His sister had mentioned putting on a strawberry one to hang out with the boy she had a crush on. Of course, she hadn't said that directly to Ominis, but he had just happened to overhear it.
As he brought the tube to his lips, he heard the front door below him slam shut and his mother yelling at his sister to stop slamming doors in the house.
His stomach lurched. He had to get out of her room. Quickly, Ominis shut the case and pocketed the tube. He ran back to his own room just as he heard her footsteps rushing up the stairs.
His heart raced as he leaned against the door, heaving a sigh of relief. Ominis sank down to the floor, pulling out the lip balm. Rolling it between his fingers, he popped the cap off again.
Inhaling the sweet scent, he twisted the base, raising the product higher until it brushed against his thumb. When he felt the waxy cream coat his fingers, he stiffened. His parents surely would suddenly jump out from the shadows and scream at him for doing this. He listened outside his door but heard nothing.
He knew it was wrong to feel this way, but he couldn’t help himself. Slowly, almost cautiously, he swiped the balm across his lips, just once. Rubbing his lips together, he savored the sweet cherry flavor.
His lips felt softer, smoother as they glided against the other. It was such a small thing, barely noticeable, but it made him feel... better. Lighter, somehow. He ran his fingers over his lips, marveling at the change.
But then his mind twisted back to the things his parents had said, the slurs, the disgust, the threats of what they’d do if one of their children ever stepped out of line. His stomach churned. He shoved the balm back into his pocket, ignoring the lingering sweetness on his lips.
Over the next few days, Ominis couldn’t stop thinking about it. The cherry lip balm stayed hidden in his pocket, a secret he both feared and clung to. Every time he thought about tossing it, the thought of how it made him feel stopped him. Pretty. That word still echoed in his mind, forbidden yet oh so enticing.
When he finally worked up the courage to apply the balm again, it felt like something clicked into place. It became a ritual of his, to apply the cherry flavored product to his lips. He did it when no one else was around. It wasn’t just about the flavor on his tongue or the feel of it coating his lips. Both were nice, of course. But it was more about the way it made him feel.
It made him feel better. More him. As though, a piece of who he was had been lost and now found.
He didn’t think anyone would notice. He didn’t want anyone to notice. So when Sebastian leaned against the railing beside him in the courtyard, Ominis nearly froze, clutching the tube of plastic behind his back.
“What’s with the pout?” Sebastian teased, his tone dripping with mischief. “Practicing for your next magazine cover?”
Ominis’ cheeks burned, his free hand flying to cover his lips. “What? No. I’m not…”
“Hold on,” Sebastian leaned in closer, sniffing the air dramatically. Ominis could feel his breath fan over his heated face. “Are you wearing... lipstick?”
“It’s not lipstick!” Ominis snapped, his voice sharp, heat rising in his cheeks as he turned his face away. His hand instinctively clutched the small tube tighter as if his life depended on it.
Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up, his curiosity clearly piqued. “Not lipstick, huh? Then why do you look like I just caught you sneaking into the girls’ locker room?” His voice dripped with amusement, and Ominis could practically hear the smirk in his tone.
“It’s nothing,” Ominis muttered, taking a small step back. “Just leave it alone.”
“Nothing?” Sebastian repeated, his grin widening. “You’re hiding it behind your back like it’s some dark family secret. Now I have to see it.”
“No, you don’t!” Ominis insisted, twisting away as Sebastian stepped closer. “Just drop it, Sebastian.”
But Sebastian was relentless. “Oh, come on, I’m not going to steal your secrets, Ominis. I just want to know what’s got you so flustered.”
He lunged playfully, but Ominis turned sharply, keeping his back to him. “Sebastian, I swear, if you don’t-”
Before he could finish the sentence, Sebastian’s arm snaked around him with surprising speed, and his fingers closed over Ominis’ wrist. “Gotcha,” he said, his grin audible in his voice as he spun the other boy around, pinning him against the railing.
“Sebastian, stop!” Ominis hissed, his cheeks blazing, but Sebastian was already prying his hand open with the persistence of someone who had nothing better to do.
After a brief struggle, Sebastian managed to pull the object free. He held it up triumphantly, stepping away as he turned it over in his hand. “Now, what do we have here?” he asked, his tone laced with exaggerated curiosity. “Cherry cola? Fancy.”
Ominis stiffened, mortification flooding his chest as Sebastian twisted the cap off and gave the balm an experimental sniff. “Mmm. Sweet and fruity,” Sebastian teased, his grin widening. “I didn’t take you for a cherry cola kind of guy.”
“Give it back,” Ominis muttered, his voice low and tight with shame. He held out his hand, head dipped low, but the other boy stepped just out of reach, clearly enjoying himself.
“Hold on, hold on,” Sebastian said, holding the tube aloft like it was some great prize. “What’s the story here? Did you pick this up for the flavor, or are you trying to start a new trend?”
“Sebastian, stop!” Ominis snapped, reaching for the balm, but Sebastian dodged him easily, his grin only growing wider.
“Alright, alright,” Sebastian said, finally relenting. He handed the tube back with a little bow, his teasing smile softening. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”
Ominis snatched it out of his hand, shoving it back into his pocket as quickly as possible. His lips pressed into a tight line, his heart pounding with equal parts embarrassment and relief.
But before he could turn to leave, Sebastian’s voice stopped him.
“For what it’s worth,” Sebastian said, his tone quieter now, more sincere, “I think it’s nice.”
Ominis’ breath hitched. He could feel his blood roaring in his ears. “You do?”
“Yeah,” Sebastian replied, his voice quieter now. “Actually... it suits you.”
Ominis turned toward him, stunned. “What does?”
“The color,” Sebastian said, his tone so genuine it almost hurt. “It makes your lips look darker than usual. It makes you look... I don’t know. Different. Good.” He hesitated, then added softly, “Pretty.”
That word again.
Pretty.
Ominis’ breath hitched. The word felt heavier coming from Sebastian, as though it carried more meaning than he could comprehend. He turned his face away, his lips tingling where the cherry flavor still clung.
“You think so?” he asked, so quietly he wasn’t sure Sebastian would even hear him.
Sebastian did. “Yeah. I do.”
For the first time, Ominis didn’t feel the shame that always seemed to follow him. Instead, he felt warmth. Acceptance. And for once, he thought that maybe, just maybe, it was okay to want to be called pretty.